


The Mountebank

by K_dAzrael



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dubious Consent, Kylux Hard Kinks, Medical Kink, Multi, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:28:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_dAzrael/pseuds/K_dAzrael
Summary: For the Kylux Hard Kinksprompt: 'Broke student Kylo answers a call for medical research subjects that he finds online- $150 per visit. It takes several trips to Dr Hux's office and an inordinate number of things up his ass before he realises it might not have been a genuine advert.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Шарлатан](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335477) by [Tersie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersie/pseuds/Tersie)



Kylo pushed his wet hair back from his face and squinted at the number on the gate, then down at his phone.   

> _32 Starkilly Place  
>  _
> 
> _Use basement entrance._

The house was a large, red-brick building in a tree-lined suburb. Kylo had taken two buses to get here and he was cold and miserable – he hoped it was the right place, even though from the outside it looked nothing like a clinic.

He walked down a sloping driveway and down a set of steps to access the lower door, pressing the button firmly. A posh, masculine voice crackled over an intercom.

“Yes?”

“I’m Kylo. I have an appointment for… the trial?”

“Yes, you’re a little late but we can still fit you in. Proceed down the hall and into the consulting room.” The intercom crackled out and the door buzzed; Kylo pushed it and stepped into a dim hallway that was decorated with anatomy posters and a cork board that had informational leaflets pinned to it about STI checkups and treating erectile dysfunction. The doors off the corridor were mostly closed and unlabeled, but straight ahead he could see one that was propped open. It bore a plaque which read ‘Dr A. Hux’ and there was light shining within. With a flutter of trepidation, Kylo closed the exterior door behind him and walked forward.

The consulting room was painted a pale green and had a black and white tiled floor. It smelled of antiseptic and although each piece of furniture looked clean and new, there was something quaint about it: perhaps it was the old-fashioned weighing machine, or the articulated skeleton hanging in the corner, or the wooden cabinets displaying instruments that he hoped were merely collector’s items. There was an examination table, upholstered in black vinyl and draped with a runner of clean white linen. A gauzy curtain hung by it, the rail curving around the bed’s circumference to the adjoining wall. Along the same wall as the table there was a sink, and a row of three small, high windows, up at what must be ground level outside. The adjoining wall had a desk and two chairs and Kylo threw himself down into one of these, shrugging out of his duster coat and bouncing one foot up and down with impatience.

He heard the sound of footsteps coming down a set of stairs and then a man appeared through a side door. He was tall and slim with red hair in a neat, rather old-fashioned style with long sideburns. He looked to be in his thirties and was wearing a white coat over a shirt and tie, grey suit trousers, and shiny oxfords. He had a stethoscope draped around his neck and a clipboard tucked under one arm.

“Hello. Kylo Ren, is it?” The same voice from the intercom: the kind of accent he would have once called generic ‘British’ but now knew was actually called ‘received pronunciation’, and which meant the speaker had probably gone to a very expensive boarding school.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

The man in the white coat gave him a long, evaluating look, his face showing no emotion. “Yes,” he said quickly, as if coming to some resolution. “Capital. Shall we get on? I’m Dr Hux. I’ll be conducting the tests today.”

Kylo sat up straighter. “Yeah so, it’s a hundred and fifty for each session, right?”

A look, perhaps disapproval, came over the other man’s placid face. “That is correct. We will have to go through some initial questions to establish your suitability for the programme first.”

“Is it like a cheque, or what? Just, I kind of need payment a.s.a.p.” Kylo thought of the increasingly ominous notes his flatmates had started slipping under his door.

“We’re amenable to cash payments, though naturally we keep our own records.”

“And the schedule is weekly?”

“It could go up to twice a week if you’re a suitable candidate.”

“Yeah, that would be great. So… what exactly are the tests?”

“Please Mr Ren, I am getting to that. The subject of our research is sperm production and motility. We are particularly interested in the effect of certain kinds of genital and anal stimulation on this, with a view, obviously, to increasing virility and fertility in male subjects.”

Kylo’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to connect my dick to an electrode, are you? Or like… cut parts of me open?”

“No,” Dr Hux’s lips pursed primly. “The experiments are painless and non-invasive. They are however…” He tapped his pen on the clipboard, “well, one might say potentially embarrassing in nature. Please rest assured that your anonymity will be safeguarded and that if you are uncomfortable with any procedure, you may say so and the test will halt immediately.”

“Okay,” said Kylo, blinking.

“I will begin with taking a brief medical and sexual history. Is that something you’re comfortable with?”

“Sure.”

Dr Hux scribbled some information down on his clipboard. “From your accent I assume you are American?”

“Yeah.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Occupation?”

“Grad student.”

“Ah!” Hux looked up. “Biology?”

“No, history. I’m writing my thesis on late medieval chivalric codes.”

Hux made another of his disapproving faces. “The humanities, I see. Do you suffer from any long-term or chronic conditions?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Any history of cardiac illness in your family?”

“Yeah… my dad… um. He passed away last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Hux dispassionately. “What about diabetes?”

“No.”

“Taking any medications?”

“No.”

“Any allergies?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hmm,” more scribbling sounds. “How many sexual partners have you had?”

“What?”

“Sexual partners. How many?”

“I uh… I don’t know. Maybe… fifteen?”

“Do you practice safe sex with barriers?”

“Condoms? Yeah sure. I mean… there was one long term thing where we didn’t. I might have had a few slip ups when I was younger…”

Hux looked up, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “Last sexual health check?”

“Eight months ago, maybe?”

“Ah, and it was clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever had treatment for a sexually transmitted infection?”

“Yeah,” Kylo felt his ears burn. “Chlamydia. I think five years back?”

“Mmm. That one’s a common little bugger.” Hux scribbled with extra vigor. “How would you describe your sexual orientation?”

“I’m bisexual.”

“I see. And on the Kinsey Scale?”

“What’s that?”

“It goes from zero – exclusively heterosexual – to six – exclusively homosexual.”

“Four?”

“Do you have a current sexual partner?”

“No. I’m single.”

“Good. Well, tell me about your masturbatory habits.”

“Huh?”

“How often do you masturbate?”

“I mean it’s not like I have a schedule.”

Hux raised his eyebrows and tapped his pen on the board. “Here are the options: a) never; b) a few times per year; c) 1-3 times per month; d) 1-3 times per week; e) more than 3 times per week.”

“Um,” Kylo felt his ears go redder. “E.”

“That’s good for our purposes – we do want to make sure we’re getting a fresh sample, so to speak. However, we ask that you refrain from masturbation twenty-four hours before your appointments here. Will that be a problem?”

“No. I mean, shit  – I’m not a sex addict!”

“I didn’t say you were. Do you practice anal sex?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ever the receptive partner?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Does anal stimulation form a part of your masturbatory habits?”

Kylo threw his hands up. “Why the fuck do you need to know that?”

“Mr Ren, we can end this session at any time if you are uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I like things in my ass, ok? Happy?”

“I’m only collecting the data I’ve been asked for. Each candidate answers the same set of questions and, as I said, it’s anonymised. You will be referred to on paper with a subject number designation.” Hux cleared his throat. “Additionally, we ask that you refrain from use of… pleasure aids or digital insertion for the duration of the experiment.”

“Digital insertion?”

“Fingering yourself, in common parlance.”

“Why…? You know what, don’t answer.” Kylo ran a hand back through his hair distractedly. “Ok, whatever.”

Dr Hux glanced down at his notes. “When was your last bowel movement?”

“Fuck, why is _that_ important?”

“As I said,” he answered with an air of magnanimous patience, “anal stimulation is part of the trial. We don’t want any surprises, do we?”

Kylo breathed out slowly, looking up to the ceiling. “Today just after I got up. I guess twelve pm.”

“Are you regular?”

“How do you mean?”

“Would you benefit from a fibre supplement, some mild laxatives, or an enema kit?”

“No, fuck – I don’t need help going to the bathroom!”

“Very well. Please evacuate your bowels one to three hours before each session.”

“Not a problem!” Kylo said, angry and sarcastic in a way he knew made him sound like his father.

“If it _is_ a problem, please let me know. I am happy to assist.”

“Great! Understood!”

“Alright,” Dr Hux put the clipboard aside and put the top back on his pen, slipping it into his front pocket. “I’m going to do a general check-up. Pulse, blood pressure, reflexes, heartbeat, breathing. Ok?” When Kylo nodded sullenly Dr Hux got up and opened a tall cupboard, taking out a piece of pale green folded cloth. “Here’s a gown for you. You may pull the curtain if you wish.”

“Should I… take off _everything_?”

“Yes. The split goes to the back, by the way. You can place your clothes on the empty shelf by the sink there.”

Kylo snatched the gown from Dr Hux and went over to the examination table, pulling the curtain all the way. He dumped his clothes on the shelf, then slipped his arms into the gown, struggling to fasten the ties at this neck and back.

“Ready?” Dr Hux called.

“Yeah.” Kylo seated himself on the edge of the table. Dr Hux drew back the curtain, it made a soft clacking sound as the castors drew along the rail.

“Try to relax, Mr Ren. We want to get accurate readings after all.” Dr Hux slipped the buds of the stethoscope into his ears and pressed the diaphragm to the centre of Kylo’s chest, listened and moved it to another position. “Mm-hm,” he said, a knowing sound. He then moved to Kylo’s back, the cool feeling of the metal making Kylo jump. “Easy. Take a deep breath for me.”

There was something almost sensual about the unhurried, methodical way Dr Hux went about his checks. In particular, Kylo felt the pressure of slim cool fingers on his wrist as the doctor took his pulse to be strangely enjoyable — intimate almost — and he stole a glance up at Hux as the latter consulted his watch, Kylo thinking that stern, cool, professional-types had always done it for him, and then chiding himself for these thoughts. Dr Hux might not be his personal physician, but it would still probably be weird and inappropriate to ask him out.

English people were _weird_ about romance in general: asking someone for a date was not a thing one did, apparently. People seemed taken aback by his honest professions of attraction and invitations to go for coffee. The protocol here, he had come to understand, was staring intensely at the object of your affections and saying nothing, hoping the opportunity would one day arise for both of you to be drunk in the same place.

“You’re in very good shape,” Dr Hux said, startling Kylo out of his reverie. “Fit as a lop.”

“A what?”

“A flea.”

“Yeah, I do weight training and martial arts.” More accurately, he _used to_ , before he let his gym membership lapse – he leaves that part out. “Helps with… well, I used to have anger issues.”

“Is that how you got the scar — martial arts?”

“Kind of, but it’s more to do with stupid shit — anger issues. That’s all in the past – I’m not gonna like deck you if you try to take my temperature.”

“That’s good to know. As I said, if you’re uncomfortable with anything, let me know straight away. I don’t wish to give you any cause for panic.”

“Thanks. So um, am I a good candidate?”

“I’d say you’re a perfect candidate.”

“Do we start right now?”

“Yes. Today we’ll get a baseline. Now, have you ever had your testicles or prostate examined before?”

“Uh, no. I mean, I check my own balls because I saw the PSAs, but not the other thing.”

“Mmm, it won’t take long. First, I need you to stand up and bend over with your arms crossed on the table and your feet shoulder-width apart.”

Kylo did as instructed and he heard a drawer opening and the sound of a nitrile glove being snapped on.

“Relax, I’m just going to palpate your scrotum. Let me know if there’s any pain or discomfort.”

Kylo hardly dared breathe as he felt a hand, warm through the glove, cupping and raising his balls. Dr Hux was standing close behind him, he could feel the faint ripple of his breath against the exposed skin of his back. “Someone should check your moles, you know. Melanoma can be very dangerous if it’s not caught early.”

“Uh-huh,” Kylo said, trying to hold himself still and think unarousing thoughts. Dr Hux was really very deft at his work, gently working his thumb in small, searching circles, never squeezing too tight.

“Alright,” Dr Hux let go, “nothing to worry about there. Now I’m going to examine you internally. First I’ll use my finger, then I’m going to open you up with the speculum, just for a quick look. Alright?”

“A what?”

“It’s a little tool we have for holding things open. Not painful but you’ll feel a little pressure. They can be a bit uncomfortable when they’re chilly, but I’ve been keeping this one warm in my coat pocket for you.”

“Um…” Kylo was beginning to think Dr Hux was a bit eccentric. “Sure?”

Dr Hux returned to the desk and there was a familiar squirting sound as he dispensed some lube. Kylo stiffened when he heard Dr Hux return, almost jumping at the pressure of a hand at the base of his spine. “Nothing to worry about. Breathe out slowly for me.”

Kylo could not contain a grunt when the fingertip slipped into him.

“Not too tight,” Dr Hux commented.

“I um… I played with myself last night. Sorry.”

Dr Hux made a tisking sound, rotating his finger slightly. “Can’t be helped now.”

Kylo gasped when he felt the fingertip press against his prostate.

“There we have it,” Dr Hux sounded pleased. “That’s a nice, healthy shape.”

Kylo felt an inexplicable thrill at that – God, he was pathetic, getting off on someone complimenting his glands. He shuddered as Dr Hux pulled back out, trying not to moan in disappointment.

“Alright, I’ll need you to hop up on the table for me and lie back.” Kylo did as he was told self-consciously placing a hand over his crotch and hoping Hux wouldn’t see that he was half hard through the flimsy material. Dr Hux fiddled with something under the table, making it collapse back to be fully horizontal. “Now, you’re fit and flexible. I imagine it won’t be a problem to pull your knees to your chest.”

“That’s very… I mean I’ll be very exposed.”

“Yes well, that’s the idea, to get a good look inside. I think you’ll be most comfortable like this, but if you’d prefer your hands and knees…”

“No!” Kylo tugged the hem of his gown down further.

“I don’t want you to be embarrassed about any… physiological reactions you might have. I assure you I am only interested in looking at your anal cavity. Alright then, roll back for me.”

“Uhh… ok.” Kylo put his hands behind his knees and rolled back to expose himself. Dr Hux took out a conical metal device with handles from his lower coat pocket and held it upright, holding the projecting ends together and coating them with lubricant left over on his right hand. He hooked the leg of a wheeled stool with one foot and pulled it over to him, sitting down and scootching closer until he was eye-level with Kylo’s ass. He curled his clean hand around Kylo’s thigh and gave it a reassuring pat. “Breathe out again for me.”

“Hhhhhh, agh!” Kylo felt the unyielding metal slip into him — an unfamiliar sensation.

“Still a little cool, is it? Oh well, try to relax. In a moment you’ll feel a little bit of pressure. Don’t bear down, but tell me when you think it’s as much as you can take.”

There was a quiet clicking as the mechanism slowly ratcheted open. Kylo felt mild pressure, then a considerable stretch, then something bordering on too much.

“Stop there!”

“Mmm,” Dr Hux said, patting his thigh again. “Not bad, but let’s take a closer look.” Kylo raised his head and looked downwards to see Dr Hux squinting thoughtfully as he fumbled a pen light out of his breast pocket. He clicked it on and shined it into Kylo’s stretched hole. “Good, yes. Looks like a nice healthy bowel.”

“Jesus, please stop saying that word.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr Hux glanced up. “Would you prefer ‘ass’?” he said this in an affected American accent: _ey-uss_.

Kylo gritted his teeth. “Take that thing out of me please I’m uncomfortable.”

“Of course. Don’t squirm now, just breathe…” The pressure slowly diminished and the instrument was drawn out with a slow, sucking sound. There came a discordant clang as Dr Hux dropped it into a metal pan near the sink, drawing off his gloves and disposing of them in a pedal bin.

Kylo sat up, wincing at the squelchy feeling of the lube between his cheeks. “Are we done then?”

“Nearly, just one more thing.” Dr Hux opened a cupboard and took out a small plastic specimen jar with a red screw-top lid. He took out a pen and filled in some details on the label, then turned and handed it to Kylo. “Fill that for me, will you?”

“You want a urine sample?”

“No, no – not urine. I need to measure the volume of your ejaculate.”

“You want me to jack off into a cup?”

“Well if you have some other way of achieving orgasm, you’re welcome to do that.”

Kylo looked around the room. “So is there like a bathroom, or…”

“Unfortunately the conditions must be controlled.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I can’t let you leave the room to ah… deposit your sample.”

“I have to do it here?”

“Mmm. You may draw the modesty curtain, of course.”

“And you have to stay here while I do it?”

“You needn’t be concerned. I have quite a lot of pressing paperwork to be getting on with, you can take your time.”

“I…” Kylo looked for any sign that the doctor might be joking. Hux gave him a placid, encouraging smile.

“Can I offer you any… aids to the process? Some lubricant? I believe we have a nice wipe-clean binder of stimulating images somewhere…”

“Uh, just the lube.”

Dr Hux picked up the industrial-sized pump-nozzle bottle of lubricant and placed it on the exam table, then gestured like a kindly usher guiding a patron to their seat. Kylo hopped up on the table, sample cup in hand, and watched Dr Hux draw the curtain. There came the scraping of a chair and then a discreet cough and the sound of a pen scratching on paper.

Kylo looked down at the empty cup and reached down to give his cock a squeeze – it had softened from his previous state of arousal during the more intimate part of the exam, but he was still sensitive, and his erection revived quickly. He reached out for a squirt of lube and set to stroking himself more firmly, trying to build up a rhythm.

His hand faltered when he heard Dr Hux tutting and a mutter of “no, no!”

“Am I doing something wrong?” Kylo called out, hand frozen on his aching prick.

“Sorry? Oh don’t mind me. Just some unsatisfactory test results. Not _yours_ , of course. By all means, carry on.”

Kylo bit his lip and closed his eyes, trying to conjure a fantasy strong enough to overcome the weirdness of the situation. Some well-worn memories of exes and one-night-stands flitted through his mind, but nothing stuck. Instead, he found his mind returning to Dr Hux: prim and collected as he sat just feet away. Kylo imagined the bright sheen of his neatly-parted hair and the surprising pinkness of his lips. He thought of that warm touch against his inner wrist and how that hand might feel on his cock, pulling and twisting with a professional detachment, one eyebrow raised in observation.

He remembered the humiliation of being held open on the speculum, Dr Hux commenting on the fact that he was _loose_. He imagined that clipped voice saying other disapproving things: _lazy, slutty, untidy boy._

Kylo grunted and had to stop himself before he missed his target. He fumbled to position the cup, catching the long spurts of semen as he continued to jerk himself roughly. He slumped back, panting, tugging his gown down over his crotch. “I’m done,” he called.

“Good lad,” Dr Hux said brightly, drawing back the curtain. Kylo flushed as he held out the cup. Hux took it and screwed on the lid, then held it up to the light. “Well, that’s quite the baseline.”

“So are we done?”

“Hmm?” Dr Hux stuffed the specimen into his front pocket. “Oh yes, yes. Sorry, I’ll leave you to get dressed. Payment will be left out in the hall — you can pick it up on your way out. Now, shall we schedule the next session? How does 3.30 PM Wednesday sound?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good, I’ll make a note of it. Thank-you very much for your participation, Mr Ren.” Dr Hux gave him a slightly unnerving smile, something avid in the depths of his blue-green eyes. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Hux went out through the same door he had entered. This left Kylo to shakily clean the lube off himself with the stack of paper towels by the sink and struggle back into his clothes before making his way back down the hall. On the cork notice board was pinned a small brown envelope with his name on it. Kylo took it and quickly counted the notes: a full one-fifty. He did some quick math in his head: two weeks of twice-weekly sessions and he would clear what he owed in rent and utilities. Another week and he would be able to redeem his sword from the pawnbroker’s, maybe even afford food that wasn’t dessicated noodles. He tucked the envelope into his inner coat pocket and buttoned it up, feeling a twinge in his ass almost like he had been well-fucked. _No need to be weird about it_ , he told himself, _it’s a research trial._

*~*~*

Dr Hux smiled as he opened the door to the consulting room. “Good to see you again, Mr Ren.”

Kylo was sitting in the backless gown, bare feet swinging with his anticipation. Dr Hux was wearing a green tie today, the knot showing above his fully buttoned white coat. He had a clipboard under his arm. He pulled up the rolling stool and sat down, flipping through his notes with a thoughtful purse of his lips. Kylo still found him attractive in some odd, slightly morbid way — he found himself admiring the incongruous brightness of Hux’s hair against his waxy, pale skin. His eyelashes caught the sun in flashes of gold — they were very long and almost translucent.

“How are we feeling today? Anything I should  know about?”

Kylo shrugged with one shoulder. “Like what?”

“General wellness. Any soreness or tiredness after the last session?”

“No.”

“Normal sex drive this week?”

“What is ‘normal’, exactly?”

“Normal for _you_ , I mean.”

“Yeah, I didn’t… y’know, in the last twenty-four hours. Like you said.”

“I appreciate your cooperation. And how is your digestive health?”

Kylo scowled. “Fine!”

“Mmm. Let’s start with the same checks as last time: heart rate, pulse, reflexes, blood pressure. Ok?”

“Yeah, fine.”

Again, there was something soothing about the checks. The rustle of clothing and Dr Hux’s soft-spoken instructions; his firm, professional touches. “Pulse is lower today,” he commented. “You must be more relaxed. That’s good — I thought you were perhaps a little uncomfortable last time.”

“Well yeah, who wouldn’t be? I mean it’s pretty… intimate.”

“Quite!” Dr Hux gave a short bark of laughter as he strapped the blood pressure cuff around Kylo’s left bicep. “Perhaps I’m too absorbed in my work to properly notice these things. I’m sure a vet finds it totally normal to be up to his or her elbow in a fistulated cow. Not that I’m comparing you to livestock, I apologise — that was an inappropriate remark.” He pumped the bulb until Kylo felt the cuff tighten and pinch. “Mmm, one-ten over seventy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means good — _optimal_ , in fact.”

Kylo felt that absurd thrill go through him again from the praise — as if his blood pressure was something that he could control in order to please Dr Hux. Hux ripped off the velcro and Kylo flexed his tingling arm.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. I need you to kneel on the table and then lean forward until you can rest on your elbows.”

“You mean like… with my ass in the air?”

“Exactly. We have determined that this is the optimum position.”

“Optimum position for what?”

“Stimulating your prostate, of course.”

“Uh, are you going to do that with your fingers?”

“Oh no, that would be very imprecise.” Dr Hux crossed to a cabinet and pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, then opened a drawer. He withdrew a black silicone rubber device that was vaguely L-shaped, curved and bulbous at each terminating end. “This is a prostate massager.”

“Like the sex toy?”

Dr Hux made a face as if Kylo’s question pained him. “Well I believe the _principle_ is similar. Of course, this one is made from very high quality materials and has extremely precise settings. Today I will have it on the lowest setting of one hundred hertz. We’ll go for ten minutes, after which you will deliver a sample as before.” He held up the object and gestured with a gloved fingertip. “This part will be inside your anus, this part,” he pointed to the lower nodule, “will be external, pressed against the perineum to provide additional stimulation.”

“Do I have to… push it in and out?”

“No, no, the device is designed to be held snugly in place. The stimulation will come from the pressure and vibration alone.”

“Oh,” said Kylo, finding himself somewhat disappointed. Hux crossed to the lube dispenser on the cabinet by the sink and began to coat the massager liberally.

“On the table, if you please.”

Kylo positioned himself with some reluctance, the blood rushing to his face with shame at the feeling of exposure. He felt himself tense with anticipation when he heard Hux approach to stand behind him at the end of the table. A slippery finger circled his hole.

“I trust you were able to refrain from anal stimulation this week?”

Kylo grunted as the finger slipped past the ring of muscle. “Yeah. I mean I used the shower jet on there once — that doesn’t count, does it?”

“I believe we can let you away with that, so long as there was no penetration.”

“Fuck I’m... you must think I’m some desperate pervert.”

“This is a judgement-free zone, I assure you. My only concern is that the test is not compromised.” Kylo let out a breathy sound as Dr Hux’s finger withdrew. “Now I’m going to place the massager. Let me know if you feel any pain.”

Kylo did not feel any pain — just a smooth pressure that lit up all his nerve endings and made it a struggle not to cant his hips and push back; to make the sensation more like the deep fucking he couldn’t help but crave.

“There,” Hux said when the device was fully seated. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Kylo replied, voice tight. “That feels fine.”

“Good. Now where did I put that handset?” Kylo almost choked when he felt the device buzz to life inside him. “Yes, there we have it. Let me just set a timer.” There came an electric beeping sound, then the footsteps returning. Kylo shuddered as he felt a fingertip tapping against the end of the device where it protruded from him. “Good fit? Do you need any adjustments?”

“No…” Kylo managed, panting. “‘S good.”

“Excellent. Well I’ll just get on with my paperwork. Let me know if you experience any pain or discomfort.”

Kylo groaned softly, pressing his forehead to the clean linen runner. His hair fell around his face, hiding — he hoped — his extremely flushed face. He heard the scrape of a chair as Hux sat down, soon the faint scratching sounds of a pen resumed. The buzzing was not a flat sensation: it came in pulses, bunched close together. His cock was fully hard now, trapped between his belly and the rough cotton of the gown. Time seemed to pass very slowly, and Kylo soon felt torn between pleasure and a creeping numbness in his lower legs which turned into shooting pains as he tried to subtly shift his weight.

“Dr Hux?”

“Mmm?”

“Is the time nearly up?”

“A few minutes left, I’m afraid. Are you in pain?”

“It’s just this position. My hips are cramping.”

“Oh dear, we can’t have that.” Kylo heard Hux’s shoes clicking on the floor and jumped at the sensation of a hand on his naked back. “Can you roll onto your side? Easy now.”

Kylo hissed at the intense feeling of pins and needles in his legs as he unfolded them. “Ow… shit.”

“Here, on your back. Let me stretch your legs out, make you more comfortable.”

Kylo dragged his hair back out of his face as he turned over, aware he must be very red and sweaty.  He tugged the gown down and hastily cupped his hand over his crotch.

“I’m afraid we can’t allow that,” Dr Hux tutted, bending Kylo’s left leg at the knee and pulling it back out straight to get the circulation going.

“What?” Kylo looked up at him in confusion.

“Your hand,” Hux said, rotating Kylo’s ankle. “There must be no direct genital stimulation until the end of the massage phase.”

“Oh,” Kylo flushed deeper, took his hand away. To his utter humiliation he realised that not only was he fully erect, but he had leaked precome onto the gown and there was a very noticeable dark patch by his left hip. “Sorry,” he said as he noticed Hux’s glance and raised eyebrow. “That just, uh... happens — does it affect the test?”

“No, there’s no need to worry. We don’t count preejaculate as part of the… payload, so to speak.” Hux lowered the left leg and took up the right, repeating the same stretches and rotations. “Just out of professional interest,  are you circumcised?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s rather uncommon here, as I’m sure you’ve found. Religious or aesthetic reasons?”

“Religious.”

“Ah. Jury’s still out on whether it’s a medical advantage or not. Some evidence it reduces STI transmission rates, but some men report a loss of sensation in the glans. Do you find it inhibits your sexual pleasure?”

“Well I had it done as a baby — I’ve never known any other way.”

“True. I suppose one would have to ask a person who underwent the procedure as an adult. Still, I’ve always thought—” What Hux had always thought regarding the matter of foreskin would remain a mystery, as the timer went off with a series of shrill beeps.

“Seems like your time is up.” Hux produced the remote control from his front pocket and the vibrations ceased. “Roll onto your side for me. I’ll just glove up.”

Kylo did as he was instructed, raising his uppermost knee to provide better access. Hux pulled the massager out and Kylo couldn’t help but whimper at the intense feeling of the slow drag. A brief thought of Hux unbuttoning his coat and deftly replacing the device with his cock flitted unbidden across Kylo’s mind — he imagined Dr Hux had a very nice-looking dick: uncut, probably, but straight and well-proportioned, rising from a base of neatly-trimmed ginger pubes.

“Very good,” Hux said, disposing of the massager in the tray by the sink, presumably for later sterilization.

“Do you use the same device on every subject?” Kylo asked, suddenly alarmed by the idea. “The same unit, I mean.”

“Oh no, no, of course not: we take the health of our subjects very seriously. This one’s brand new, just for you. After cleaning it’ll go back in a box with your number on it.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Kylo said, feeling dazed and still very aroused. Dr Hux gave him a broad smile (one which, again, had a slight manic edge to it that Kylo found a little unsettling. Maybe Hux just wasn’t a people-person) and removed his gloves, then reached up to the cupboard for another specimen jar.

“You remember what to do with this, I trust?”

“Yeah,” Kylo swallowed audibly. “I remember.”

“Good lad,” Hux handed over the cup and drew the curtain with a hushed clatter. “No rush.”

Kylo didn’t heed the reassurance — it took only a few pumps of his cock, his ass clenching around the phantom pressure of the massager, before he was coming. He grunted and made a high, desperate sound that he knew would be all too audible through the flimsy barrier of material.

“I’m… I’m done,” he said, slumped and panting with the cup tightly clenched in his hand.

“You are efficient today,” Dr Hux commented as he returned, sweeping the curtain aside, and took possession of the cup. He screwed the cap on and held it up to the light again. “Quite a deposit. I get the sense that you’re going to exceed all our expectations.”

“Um… thanks,” said Kylo, brushing a lock of hair back behind his ear.

“My slots are on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Is that still good for you?”

“Yeah. 3.30?”

“Precisely. See you on Saturday, then.”

“Looking forward to it,” he replied, then winced — that was not the right way to phrase it at all. Hux didn’t seem to find his wording strange: he merely gave Kylo another enthused, slightly unsettling smile before he turned to go.

Kylo found his payment envelope waiting on the notice board as before — one-fifty in seven crisp twenties and a ten. Queen Elizabeth’s portrait looked at him rather disapprovingly as he thumbed through the stack, as if she knew he was responsible for the perversion of important scientific research. He stuffed the money into his inner coat pocket and screwed a hand into his jeans for his phone. A message flashed up on the cracked screen:  

> **_Dave Ren_  
>  **
> 
> _Chillingham Arms, 7.30. Need to talk abt SCA._

Kylo cursed. How was he supposed to get his life back on track when it kept derailing behind him?

 _Ok m8_ , he texted back. _See u there_.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and pressed the release button to open the clinic door, letting it slam behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

“You can’t do this to me!” Kylo thumped the table for emphasis, making Dave’s half-full glass of snakebite and black skitter away across the tacky varnish.

Dave winced. “Easy mate, calm down.”

“Alright our Kylo?” said Clive, sitting down next to them as Johno and Ali shifted along the torn vinyl banquette to make room.

“No, I’m fucking not!” Kylo pointed a finger at Clive. “Did you know about this… mutiny?”

Clive rubbed his chin and looked down, letting out a deep sigh. “Aye well, we knew you would take it personally.”

“How else could I take it?”

“Listen,” said Dave, “before you get all wound up, just know that we’re not trying to kick you out of the group. We’re not. We just think you should step down as Knight Marshal. We won’t be allowed to host any combat activities until you do, and that’s really not fair on the rest of us, is it?”

Kylo waved an arm, almost upsetting his pint. “That’s all a misunderstanding. I’m going to sort it out with the principality.”

“It’s not a misunderstanding that you went fucking mental, Kylo,” Ali cut in.

Johno licked his lips, faintly trembling with righteous indignation as he added: “look, we all know you should have admitted it was a killing blow and instead you _went for her_ like a maniac.”

“Yeah and who ended up on the fucking wrong side of that?” Kylo demanded, gesturing to his scar.

Just then Keith appeared, returning from the bar with several packets of peanuts and corn snacks, which he magnanimously dumped into the centre of the table before taking up his seat on one of the balding velvet stools. “Alreet lads?”

“And you,” Kylo said, pointing an accusing finger. “Keith the Reeve of Ren, do you agree with the rest of these traitors?”

Keith frowned as if the accusation pained him. “Ah come on now, Kylo.”

Kylo folded his arms across his chest, adopting a tragic, martyred look. “I just can’t believe you would all be so ungrateful — I started this chapter. You would be _nothing_ without me!”

“And if you were a _true_ leader you would know when you need to make a sacrifice,” Dave retorted.

Kylo glared at him, wishing he had just left the little backstabber standing awkwardly in the corner of the post-grad wine reception where he found him.  “Anyway,” Kylo continued. “You haven’t thought this through. Who’s going to lead combat training?”

“Yeah, uh…” Dave said, scratching his cheek and looking away. Kylo narrowed his eyes in suspicion and then looked up towards the entrance, where a young woman with a distinctive three-bunned hairstyle was just coming through the door. She grinned when she spotted the group and gave an enthusiastic wave, then (noticing Kylo) an expressive scowl.

“You have to get along,” Dave cautioned. “It’s for the good of the Shire of Ren.”

“Fuck the shire!” Kylo said, almost knocking over the table as he rose to his feet. He grabbed a packet of Scampi Fries and shoved it into his coat pocket, then gave the company one last glare of righteous indignation before he turned to go.

*~*~*

“Scoot up closer to the edge here,” Dr Hux instructed. “We’re going to go for longer today and since the kneeling position isn’t comfortable for you I think we’ll have to use the stirrups.”

Kylo pulled himself down the table, leaning back on his hands.

“Perfect.” Hux pulled down a flap on the end of the unit and pulled out two sliding metal bars, each of which had a hinged armature on the end that terminated in a scoop-shaped piece of plastic obviously designed to cradle the patient’s heels. Hux moved to Kylo’s side and fiddled under the table, raising the backrest to a shallow incline. “Alright, lie back for me. Now, raise your left leg,” as Kylo did so, Hux caught his ankle and carefully placed his foot into the corresponding stirrup, “Good lad. Now your right.” With the process repeated Kylo was left with his knees bent and splayed, his ass once more bared to the coolness of the room. “How’s that?” Hux enquired, tightening a bolt on one of the armatures. “Comfy?”

“I guess,” said Kylo, sullenly.

“I can adjust it.” Hux crossed to the sink and put on his gloves, lubing up his right hand.

“No it’s fine.”

“You seem in poor spirits today,” Hux commented in his usual blithe tone. “Have you been suffering any ill-effects from our work here?” He sat down on the stool and wheeled himself into place between Kylo’s spread thighs.

“No. This is fine. I’m just not in a very good mood.”

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No. Yeah. I don’t know. It’s just… you know how everything’s bullshit?”

“Seems a rather sweeping statement. Breathe out for me.” Kylo did so, shuddering when he felt Hux’s finger slip into him. “You are tight today. Perhaps you’re under stress.”

“Fucking right I’m under stress!” Kylo rolled his head to one side and glared at the wall balefully. “Turns out my friends are all traitors. They kicked me out of the group I started, all because they want to get back into the good graces of the society higher-ups. I can’t believe those assholes. I put my blood, sweat and tears into that shire. I’m the fucking expert in medieval combat!” He blew a lock of hair back out of his face. “I mean, it’s like no-one gives a shit about _authenticity_ , you know? All that ren faire shit: ‘here I am in a pirate hat, eating a turkey leg for some fucking reason. My girlfriend is dressed as that fantasy dragon queen in a bad white wig.’ I hate it.” Hux pushed a second finger into him and Kylo couldn’t help but roll his hips.

“People can be bitterly disappointing,” Dr Hux said, his expression shuttered. “I find it better to focus on one’s own work and accomplishments.”

“Yeah well that’s a bust. I’m pretty sure my PhD supervisor is stealing my research, for one thing. He’s about a thousand years old and I think he lives off the blood of TAs.”

“That’s terrible — there’s nothing more reprehensible than intellectual fraud. You should report him to your head of department.”

“He _is_ the fucking head of department! I’m pretty sure he could have me murdered and use my skull as a coffee mug and they still wouldn’t fire him. Plus, I’m gonna need his recommendation letters if I ever graduate, so what can you do?” Kylo rolled his head to the side, eyelashes fluttering. “Mmm, that’s nice — what you’re doing with your fingers.”

“Well, I want you to be relaxed and receptive. Are you ready for the massager?”

“Sure.” Kylo grunted as Dr Hux pulled out. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Hux’s professional bustle, only opening them when he heard the squeak of the doctor landing back down on the stool. He had a serious, pinched expression on his face as he fitted the massager into place, lifting Kylo’s balls in one cupped hand as he pressed the exterior node in behind them. Kylo squeezed around the pressure of the device, tilting his hips up in a heedless plea for more.

Dr Hux stepped back, admiring his handiwork with a critical tilt of his head as he removed his gloves. “This time I will run the device on the lower setting for ten minutes as before; then ten minutes at a higher setting. As always, let me know if you are experiencing any discomfort or pain. Would you like a magazine to read?”

“Uh, no. I think I’m just going to close my eyes and try to… relax.”

“Good good!” Dr Hux pulled out the remote control and set the device buzzing, then went to take up his usual spot on the chair by the desk, one leg crossed over the other, clipboard propped on his knee.

Kylo bit his lip and tried not to squirm as he closed his eyes. The sensation was pleasant, but nothing like the rough pounding he craved. His dick was slowly filling and he pulled down the gown as far as he could, but avoided touching it, flushing a little at the thought of how it must look tenting the fabric.

After ten minutes a timer beeped and Dr Hux got up and reset it, then used the handset to turn up the intensity of the massager. Kylo shuddered and gasped as the sensation went from teasing to powerful, pulsing waves rolling over his most sensitive spot in a way that was almost uncomfortably intense. Kylo found himself raising and lowering his hips, almost as if his body was trying to ease the pressure or direct it.

“How’s that?” Hux enquired, watching him with a curious tilt to his head.

“Intense.”

“Painful?”

“No, just… _a lot_ , you know?”

“Mmm.” Hux seated himself again and took up his work.

Kylo thought that the sensation might level off once he became accustomed to it, but instead it built: larger and larger waves of pleasure rolled over him, with a feeling like a coil tightening in his belly. Tingles radiated up into his chest and down to his toes. Clenching did nothing, controlling his breathing did nothing: he was trapped inside his body with a huge, inescapable pleasure. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of his fully erect cock twitching, a wet patch spreading out where he was leaking freely onto the gown.

“Dr Hux, I think…” Kylo gasped out, feeling his ears burn with humiliation. “I think I’m going to come.”

“Oh I think that very unlikely,” Hux said in a bored, unconcerned sort of voice. “Ejaculation without direct penile stimulation is very rare. However, prolonged prostate stimulation might cause you to have a dry orgasm.”

“A what?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. All the muscle involvement and intensity of a normal orgasm without any release of ejaculate. At any rate, you only have a minute left — I believe you can soldier on.”

“Ahhh! Oh fuck! Fuck!” Kylo arched off the table, gripping the padded sides until his knuckles turned white and almost dislodging himself from the stirrups as his body went into spasms. He shuddered and groaned through the aftershocks and dimly heard the timer beep again. Abruptly, the vibrations shut off.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasped as Dr Hux’s footsteps approached. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Relax, Mr Ren, take some deep breaths. May I examine you?”

“Yeah,” Kylo rubbed his hands over his face, whimpering softly when he felt Hux lifting his gown, which stuck to him a little.

“Ah. Just as I thought. No ejaculation and erection sustained: a dry orgasm. You will still be able to deliver a sample.”

Kylo made a helpless sound, feeling hot all over and blissed-out, but still with an undercurrent of desire. Hux draped the fabric back into place and then sat down on the stool to work on extracting the massager.

“Relax and breathe out.”

Kylo whimpered at the slow, dragging sensation of the device leaving his body. Hux went off to dispose of it and returned to ease Kylo’s feet out of the stirrups and help him to sit up.

“Are you alright?” Dr Hux asked.

“Yeah, a little shaky, I guess.”

“You’ve never experienced a prostate orgasm before?”

“No.”

“I should make a note. How would you describe the sensation?”

“Holy shit!” Kylo dragged his hair back off his face, frowning in thought. “Intense… long-lasting. Less concentrated than when it’s just my dick, you know? It’s like my whole…” Kylo made a circular gesture with his hand, “middle was involved.”

“And post-orgasmic... how do you feel now?”

“Warm, mellow — like I usually get after I come, but not drowsy.”

“This is very interesting,” Hux said, writing quickly. “The current research on erectile dysfunction is focussed on achieving tumescence. Personally, I think we should be more concerned with reconnecting the patient with pleasurable sensation. Don’t you agree?”

“Makes sense,” Kylo said vaguely.

Hux put his clipboard aside and got up to retrieve a specimen jar, handing it to Kylo. “If you’re over-sensitized, by all means take a moment to compose yourself.”

“No I’m,” Kylo moistened his lips, “I’m good.”

“Excellent, carry on then.” Hux drew the curtain and retreated to his chair.

Kylo’s orgasm was once again swift in coming. The climax seemed to go on a long time, spurt after spurt coming from his cock as he pumped it with a trembling hand, biting down on his lip as he tried not to spill any or drop the cup. Finally he slumped back, utterly spent, placing the cup aside on the table as he tried to get his breath back and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

“Done?” Hux enquired. Ren felt a twist of shame when he realised that Dr Hux must have heard the helpless grunts and moans he made as his orgasm crested — must be intimately familiar with them, by this point. From where Hux was sitting he could probably smell Kylo’s body musk and the bleachy odour of his semen.

“Yeah,” he called out. He felt light-headed, more tingly and euphoric than usual. Dr Hux appeared, pulling back the curtain, and even the clack of the curtain runners seemed to buzz against Kylo’s skin. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Hux looked less bloodless than usual. He leaned close to Ren to reach the specimen jar and Kylo heard himself say: “You have a beautiful mouth.”

Hux took a step back, his expression stern as he screwed the lid on the jar, not even pausing to compliment Kylo on the copious nature of his deposit. “Mr Ren, I don’t think I need to tell you how inappropriate that was.”

Kylo covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Shit. I did not mean to say that. I’m… I’m just stupid as hell right now.”

“That’ll be the oxytocin. It’s a hormone released by orgasm that creates a feeling of euphoria and bonding. Useful, in evolutionary terms.”

“Still, I can’t believe I said that. Fuck! You don’t need guys perving over you when you’re doing your job.”

Dr Hux blinked, eyelashes catching the light in a bright flicker. “I am flattered. If you weren’t my test subject I should say that you are a very attractive man, but you understand that I can’t tolerate any impropriety — it would endanger the legitimacy of the trial.”

“I understand. I’m sorry — I mean it. Wait - do you really think I’m attractive, though?” Kylo ran his finger down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose, feeling the bumpy uneven texture of the skin. “I think maybe the scar makes me look like a thug. Do you think I’d be a good candidate for reduction surgery? My mom keeps saying she’ll pay for it.”

Hux sniffed. “My expertise is in genitourinary medicine, not plastic surgery, so I can’t give you a professional opinion on the matter. I don’t think it harms your face aesthetically — quite the opposite. Many cultures consider scars a sign of virility.”

“Thanks. I’ll uh… get dressed then.”

“Yes, yes of course — I’ll leave you to that.”

“Sorry again for the… weirdness.”

“It is quite forgotten.”

“See you on Wednesday then?”

Hux nodded curtly and Kylo could see where he still hand his hand curled around the specimen jar in his pocket. “Until Wednesday.”

*~*~*

On Tuesday Kylo felt restless. He’d had a bad day: manuscripts fucked up his request and gave him the wrong folio, but by the time he got there it was after lunch and too late to put in a new request for the same day. Later that afternoon, Dave texted him with a half-hearted apology, inviting him to come and watch their demonstration at the meeting on Saturday. The ‘let’s be reasonable adults and get along’ tone of it all pissed Kylo right off: he immediately texted back that he was busy with work (which happened to be true — since having dry orgasms and contributing impressive sperm samples was his job now). He then changed Dave’s name to ‘Traitor 1’ in his phone. The other denizens of Ren got the same treatment and he finished off this iconoclastic spree by changing Rey’s name to ‘The Usurper’.

Later in the evening Kylo was eating noodles out of a saucepan by the kitchen sink when his flatmate Finn (Traitor 7, as Kylo would now have to emend him) came home holding hands with The Usurper. They gave Kylo matching supercilious glares before making their encampment upon the sofa, beginning to talk and laugh obnoxiously and clearly settling in for the long haul.

Kylo was damned if he was going to listen to that all night. He threw on his heavy coat and shoved his keys into his pocket before fleeing the scene. He stormed down the street and took a sharp left into the metro station, hopping onto the next rattling, boxy yellow train that came along before he had even considered his destination. He decided he would let fate and fancy decide. There was a fat envelope of cash in his inside pocket that he had neglected to deposit in his account. He had paid off enough of his rent to get Finn and the landlord off his back so _fuck it_ — he worked hard for this money, he was going to get as shitfaced as he deserved.

He exited the metro at Monument and made his way down the steep, curving street of imposing georgian buildings that led to the quayside. The restaurants along this street were mostly mid-price chains; the bars rather soulless and over-decorated establishments that sold brightly coloured cocktails and were populated by professionals who were young enough to find the gaudiness appealing but well-established enough to pay the ten-quid-a-pop price tag on the drinks. Kylo ducked into the first of these he could find that wasn’t pumping out obnoxious music and made his way to the bar.

The place was decorated to give a shallow sense of opulence: paisley print wallpaper in deep blues and greens, a long mahogany bar with a mirrored back. It being a weekday evening the place was sparsely populated, but there was one largish group occupying a long table towards the back: glamorous people in their thirties and older executives in rumpled suits. Some sort of work ‘do’, Kylo gathered. He leaned on the bar and waited, finding the barman occupied with some showy shaking-and-pouring performance, flipping bottles and utensils to the delight of two female customers who clapped and laughed as they looked on.

Kylo became aware of a presence at his side and he turned his head to see a startlingly glamorous woman had joined him at the bar. She was probably almost as tall as he was even in bare feet and was, on this occasion, wearing fearsome stiletto heels that put her slightly taller. She had on a silver-grey knee-length dress, sleeveless so as to give Kylo a glimpse of her toned arms. Her hair was bleached and short and her lipstick deep red.

“Hey,” he said, “you know you’re beautiful?” It was a ‘fuck it’ kind of night, he had decided.

She gave him a pitying look. “Yeah. I’m aware.”

“Cool,” he said. “You here with work?”

“I’m here with a conference. What about you?” Her accent was southern, but not hard and clipped like Hux’s — a genuine home counties affair that had just a touch of estuary flatness.

“I live here.”

She looked amused by this, as if she thought he had intended it as a brag. “Where are you from?”

“California.”

“Bloody hell, you must be miserable up here.”

“I’m always miserable.”

She laughed, moving her index finger in a circle to encompass his outfit. “Oh are you a goth?”

“No. I just like black. And… layering.”

“Very sensible in this climate.” She patted his arm, giving him a look that was warm and just a little patronizing. This woman clearly thought he was an oddball, but she wasn’t withdrawing from him; if anything she was a little charmed.

“I’m Kylo by the way,” he offered his hand.

“Kyle?”

“Kyle with an ‘o’. Kylo.”

“I’m Phas,” she took his hand in a firm, professional grip.

“Phas?”

“Short for Phasma. Old nickname, long story.”

“Hey, do you want a drink, Phas?” Kylo raised his eyebrows towards the barman, who was now fussing with some fancy fruit garnishes.

“Well I’m not standing here for the good of my health.”

Just then the company in the corner set up a great roar of laughter, some of it sounding shrill and fake. A pained expression came over Phasma’s face.

“Are you with them?” Kylo asked.

Phasma sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a drug rep.”

“So you tell doctors what pills to push?”

“That’s it. And I have to show my face at these things — keep up with research and networking. The seven hours of presentations I can take, it’s the ‘fun’ afterwards that’s the killer.”

“Yeah, looks lame — no offense. Do you want to blow it off?”

“Are you offering to take me away from all this, tall dark stranger?”

“We don’t have to go that far. There’s a Wetherspoons around the corner.”

Phasma laughed, a more genuine sound of amusement than any he had heard so far. “Alright then. Yes to escaping, no to Wetherspoons. No offense but I’ve come a long way since two-for-one curry night.”

Kylo smiled at her, exhilarated. “Deal.”

*~*~*

Later — _much_ later — Kylo was kissing Phasma up against the closed door of her hotel room as she fumbled in her purse for the keycard.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the eagerness, darling,” she muttered, “but that’s very distracting.”

Kylo moved his lips to her neck, catching the faint scent of some expensive perfume under that of fresh perspiration. The lock bleeped and they walked into the room as a many-footed beast, the heavy door slamming itself closed behind them. There was a lamp on at the bedside table, bathing the end of the room in a dim, warm yellow. Everything was clean and tidy and very standard.

Kylo dipped Phasma and let her bounce down onto the mattress; she laughed and put her arms out to steady herself. He knelt down and unlatched her shoes, pulling them off and watching her flex her long, elegant feet. He then reached up under her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose, Phasma lifting her hips to assist with this unpeeling process.

“Can I?” he asked meaningfully, one finger hooked in the top of her underwear.

“Can you what?”

“Put my mouth on you?”

“Oh my God, you’re so polite.” she took his chin in one hand. “Such a well brought-up boy.”

Kylo flushed at the mixture of mockery and praise. He leaned in as if to lick her and then pulled back. “Well?”

“Oh yes, absolutely.”

He tugged down her panties to reveal a broad strip of tawny hair. Parting her outer labia with his fingertips he leaned in to kiss and suck, moving the tip of his tongue lightly back and forth against the underside of her clit. She gasped and arched her back, digging her fingers into his hair, short nails scraping against his scalp. He pulled back and rubbed her clit in circles with the pad of his thumb, looking up for signs of her approval and enjoyment. She grinned lazily at him and put a bare foot against his shoulder, pushing him back.

“Why don’t you unpeel all your layers? I want to see what’s hiding under there.”

Kylo scrambled backwards and hurried to get his clothes off, watching as Phasma pulled her dress off over her head in one easy movement and and began to work on her underwear, which was black with a silver trim. Kylo turned and pulled off his tight-fitting sweater and the vest underneath, struggling to unlace his boots and squirm out of his black skinny jeans, trying not to wobble or hop or do anything too undignified. When he was finally done he turned to find her already under the covers, giving him an openly appreciative look.

“You like what you see?” Kylo grinned, preening a little as he ran his thumb along the elastic waistband of his underwear.

“Go on, then,” Phasma said, “Give us the gun show.”

Kylo raised his arms up and flexed to firm up his biceps, tightening his pecs and showing off the definition of his stomach — he was a little leaner and softer than he used to be, but still an impressive figure, or so he thought. Just today he had changed his Facebook profile to a picture of himself shirtless and holding his custom-made broadsword (newly redeemed from the pawn shop and lovingly polished) at a dynamic upwards angle. It had garnered quite a few likes. _Fuck the Shire of Ren_ , he thought. He would start a new chapter: a better one, with a more stringent membership criteria (like having at least an MA in medieval histories and cultures). He grinned at Phasma, who had touched her index finger to the side of her lip in an ‘oh my’ gesture. “What about you?” he said.

Phasma sat up in bed, letting the covers drop from her chest and raising her arms to mimic his posture. “Bet I could wrestle you,” she said.

“Oh yeah, I like that idea,” Kylo agreed, feeling slightly dazed as he stared at her breasts and imagined her smothering him with them as she got him into a pin.

“Not sure the furniture would survive,” Phasma said, sounding rueful.

“Yeah… no. Maybe we should just have sex.” Kylo stepped out of his underwear and joined her under the covers.

“Not the most romantic proposition I’ve ever heard, but lucky for you you’re pretty.”

Kylo settled against her and pushed his knee between her thighs, spreading his hand over her left breast and settling down to kissing her. Her nipple hardened under his fingertips and she made soft sounds of enjoyment as he circled and pinched it. His fingers drifted down to her pussy again and found her slick; he rubbed her clit lightly and pressed inside her with one finger. Phasma tilted her head back and sighed and Kylo shivered when he felt her hand close around the base of his shaft, squeezing him tightly.

“Do you have a condom?” he asked, sitting back and pulling her thighs either side of his knees. He rubbed the underside of his dick over the toned plane of her stomach, grunting softly as he stroked himself.

She smiled up at him. “I have all the freebies, darling. Pass me my handbag.”

Kylo stretched to reach down onto the floor and did as he was asked. Phasma rifled through her purse and pulled out various foil packets to hold up to the light: exotic flavours and textures and sensory lube coatings. “You’re not allergic to latex, are you?” she asked (Kylo shook his head). “Here we are: extra large — that’s more your style, isn’t it?” she patted his hip gamely, holding out the silvery square between her index and middle finger.

Kylo tore open the packet and rolled the condom on, hissing at the feeling of cool latex against his over-sensitised dick. He rubbed the head of it against her clit and watched her arch her back and make a low groaning sound. “You want it like this?” he asked, “me on top?”

“No, sit back, let me show you.”

Phasma had him sit up against the headboard and turned her back to him, sinking down into his lap and leaning forwards as she eased his dick inside her. He watched her muscular thighs flex, the shifting of her shoulder blades, and then stared down at the dark space where their bodies invisibly met. He groaned, eyelids fluttering. “Oh fuck, _fuck_ that’s good.”

She made a fervent sound of agreement. “Yes — God you’re big — knew you would be when I saw those hands. Come on, touch me.”

He cupped her breasts and kissed her shoulders, letting his eyes roll back in his head as she continued to move, controlling the pace and angle as she worked towards her orgasm. He rubbed her clit with his fingertips until she slapped his hand away and did it herself, wrapping her free arm around the back of his neck and encouraging his licking and biting of her neck; turning her face to listen to the helpless grunts he made as he tried to match her movements, tilting his hips up to meet her. He felt her tremble and clench through her climax, making a low ‘uh’ sound that sounded like relief before her movements slowed and she leaned forward, slipping off him and rolling over to flop onto her back on the bed. Her skin was flushed, perspiration gathering on her collarbones and top lip, the short strands of her hair wet against her neck.

“Can I… are you too sensitive?” he asked, tentatively stroking her inner labia with the very tips of his fingers.

She shook her head. “No, come here. Slower now.”

Kylo made a quiet, desperate sound as he slipped back into her. She hitched one knee up on his hip and rubbed her hand through his hair affectionately. “Is that good, darling? Can you come like this?”

“Ah,” Kylo’s hips twitched and he felt the tell-tale tightening in his lower abdomen. “That’s so good. Can you… mmm… do you like to…?”

“Do I like to what?”

“Play with my ass? I love that. Just… your fingertip.”

Phasma laughed, tilting her head back, chest shaking against Kylo’s cheek. “Here,” she said, pushing a close-clipped nail painted dark red against his lips, “get me wet then.”

Kylo whimpered and eagerly took in the fingertip, swirling the saliva around with his tongue. She pulled out and he almost held his breath, hips working only in shallow thrusts, as he waited to feel it: the brush of that warm, wet pressure lighting up all the nerve endings.

“Yeah, that’s so good.” Kylo moved his hips in a deeper, rolling motion. arms trembling where he held himself up. Her finger traced his hole in slippery circles.

“Pity I didn’t bring my harness with me,” Phasma murmured against his ear. “Is that the kind of boy you are — the kind that likes to be on all fours, getting fucked?”

“Yeah, fuck yes — I love that. I would love you to do that.” Kylo shuddered when he felt her curve her finger and push the tip into him. “Shit — wait!” he exclaimed, the sensation recalling Hux (and therefore the trial) to him. His hips stilled. “Fuck, what day is it?”

“What day is it?” Phasma repeated back in a flat, incredulous tone. “It’s just gone Wednesday morning.”

“Shit! Fuck, I can’t come — not on a Wednesday.” Kylo reached down and gripped his cock around the base, slowly pulling out of Phasma and collapsing onto his back, covering his face with his hands. “Mother _fuck_.”

“What the hell, Kylo?”

“Yeah it’s…” he sighed, pulling his hands away to look at her guiltily. “It’s a whole thing. I can’t have an orgasm on Wednesdays or Saturdays.”

“Says who?”

“This… guy. It’s hard to explain.”

“Is this like a master/slave thing? Or... something to do with your horoscope?”

“No, it’s a medical experiment. You know, a paid trial?” Kylo got up and unrolled the condom from his dick (which had partially softened from his panic). “Fuck!” he cupped himself with one hand, tossing the shrivelled condom into the waste bin, “my fucking balls ache — this is torture!”

Phasma squinted at him, leaning on her elbow. “You’re taking part in a medical trial where the experiment is you’re not allowed to come on Wednesdays and Saturdays?”

Kylo waved a hand. “No! No it’s… it’s a thing with prostate massage... and they take sperm samples. It’s kind of weird, actually — I have to go behind this curtain while the doctor stays in the room, and I jerk off. It was really unsettling the first time.”

“That doesn’t sound like a real medical trial.”

“Of course it is. What else would it be?”

“Where did you find the advertisement?”

“On the internet.”

Phasma raised an eyebrow. “Kylo—”

He scowled and cut her off. “Can I use your shower? Kind of need a cold one right now.”

“Sure — knock yourself out, love.”

“Thanks.”

When Kylo emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist and skin all over goosebumps, he found the kettle on the sideboard rumbling and Phasma sitting on the edge of the bed in a terrycloth robe, scrolling through her phone.

“C’mere a minute,” she said, patting the side of the bed; Kylo dutifully sat. “What’s the name of the hospital conducting your study?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Hospitals are bloody big buildings, lots of signs.”

“It’s a private clinic, I guess.”

“What does it say on your paycheque?”

“It’s… I’m paid cash for it.”

Phasma’s eyebrows rose as high as they could go. “A medical trial and it’s... cash-in-hand?”

“Yeah — I asked them to pay me that way. It’s convenient, alright?”

Phasma rubbed at the creases in her brow with her fingertips. “Wait, don’t the staff at least wear uniforms and identity tags?”

“Maybe. I’ve only seen one staff member: the doctor who conducts the trial.”

“That’s… ok,” Phasma blinked. “What’s his or her name? And what does each visit consist of exactly?”

“Look, no offense, but it’s none of your business, ok?” Kylo got up and started hunting for his underwear.

“If it’s some blackmarket scheme or — I don’t know — weird sex game, wouldn’t you want to know?”

“It’s not. I trust Doctor— I trust the doctor, ok. It’s a fucking great job, I’m not about to get paranoid for no reason.”

“Well, if you’re fine with a sketchy stranger having samples of your jizz…”

“I am!” Kylo snapped, halfway into his tight jeans. “Totally fine.”

“Good.” Phasma gave him a wry, almost pitying look and nodded towards the kettle. “You want a cup of coffee before you go? Decaf, maybe, for you.”

“That would be nice,” Kylo said in the same sharp, angry tone, not quite able to simmer down. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was upset about: the idea that he had once again done something reckless and foolish, or the idea of Doctor Hux (lovely, professional, _irreproachable_ ) being a pervert or trickster. He immediately tried to reconcile all the discrepancies Phasma had pointed out: some businesses still paid cash, surely; it was a small operation, probably the beginning stages of a larger trial…

“Listen,” Phasma raised her hands, “you’re right that it’s none of my business. But look, whatever this thing you’re involved in is, you don’t have to just go along with it. You seem smart, passionate — I bet you could do anything you set your mind to. You seem like an all-in kind of person.”

“Yeah,” said Kylo bitterly, “I hear that’s my problem.”

*~*~*

The next afternoon Kylo walked the distance from the bus stop to Starkilly Place at a quick, furious pace, head angled low and hands thrust into the pockets of his tightly-belted coat. When he met a woman struggling with a buggy in the driveway of number thirty, he cleared his throat and called out: “hey. Excuse me. Is there a medical clinic around here?”

The woman frowned, hitching a baby in a puffa onesie higher on her hip.  “Don’t think so, pet. There’s a dentist round the corner, near the park. Is that what you’re thinking of?”

“No, never mind. Do you know the guy who lives in that house next door? In his thirties, ginger hair?”

“No, ‘fraid not — I’m just the childminder. I haven’t seen anyone out and about round that house, though I see the lights on from time to time. Whoever lives there keeps to themselves.”

“You don’t see a lot of people going in and out, then?”

The woman’s face hardened in suspicion. “Why do you want to know? Are you with the police?”

“No, I’m uh… thinking of buying. Just… checking out the neighbourhood. Thanks for your help.” He turned and walked quickly down the driveway of the adjacent house, feeling the woman’s gaze on him as he rang the bell and was admitted.

When he entered the corridor he started to examine the things he found there more closely. The leaflets he unpinned from the board had no identifying marks on them to indicate which body or trust had issued the advice; they felt, he realised, like printer paper. He tried the doors along the corridor and found most of them locked, except one that revealed itself to be a cupboard full of old coats and wellington boots.

He went on into the ‘consulting room’ and pulled open the desk drawers with a savage yank. Most of them were completely empty. If this was a real consulting room there ought to be records — a computer, at least.  There should be more equipment than just a blood pressure monitor and a few tongue depressors. He tugged open the drawer he knew to contain the prostate massage device and saw from its packaging that it was indeed a sex toy: an expensive, Swedish-made one, but it nonetheless promised erotic pleasure and not scientific advancement.

“What the fuck?” Kylo hissed. He felt anger starting to rise up: a hot, choking sensation. He wanted to yell, to break something. He reached out for a tall, glass-fronted cabinet that contained what looked like vintage surgical instruments (more window dressing) and pulled it over, watching it crash and splinter all over the floor.

He then heard rapid footsteps on the stairs and a voice through the door: “Mr Ren — is that you?”

Kylo struggled to get his breathing under control, his chest heaving in his rage. He dragged a hand back through his hair and took deep gulps of air. “Yeah,” he rasped, “it’s me.”

“Are you alright?” the door rattled, unlocking, and the pretend doctor stepped into the room. Hux was looking immaculate as always — a grey tie today, the ever-present clipboard under his arm. He looked over at Kylo and then down at the broken cabinet, the shards of glass scattered all across the floor. “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? Come away from that broken glass and sit down — let me examine you.”

“Oh you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Kylo sneered. “To examine me?”

Hux’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“Because you’re a _professional_ , right? This is a professional operation.”

“Of course it is. What—”

“Where are your staff, Dr Hux? How come all the times I’ve been here I’ve never seen another patient, or doctor, or even a fucking receptionist?”

Hux face paled; he swallowed audibly and dropped his gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Hux gripped the clipboard tighter to his chest. “Why are you talking to me like this? This isn’t what I want.”

The rage flared in Kylo again. “What _you_ want? That’s all that matters, is it? As long as you get your little _perverted_ thrill.”

“Please stop. If you don’t want to continue our… arrangement that’s fine. You were always free to end it.”

“Arrangement? What fucking arrangement? I thought this was work!”

“It is work. What are you talking about?”

“Scientific work, not sex work. Jesus, fuck!”

“You thought…” Hux gestured to the room with a sweep of one shaking hand, “you thought this was a real clinic?”

“Yes! Fuck, what else would I think? That’s why you put together this elaborate charade in the first place – so that a mark like me would wander in and you could get off on watching him take your fucking fingers in his ass thinking it was a medical exam!”

“No,” Hux shook his head vehemently, one hand clamped over his mouth. “No that’s not… I need to sit down, I’m…” He stumbled over to the chair and collapsed into it. “Oh Christ, you thought it was _real_? How could you think that?”

“You were fucking convincing, that’s how!”

“But Ren — you must know that it is not normal for a doctor to… oh God.  Did you not click the ‘read more’?”

“What?”

“On the advertisement. There was a ‘read more’ with all the proposed kinks and limits.”

“Yeah well I didn’t read that! I thought it would just be terms and conditions bullshit.”

“Bloody hell, Ren, why would a real medical trial be advertised in the M4M section of the personals?”

“Fuck!” Kylo yelled, pulling at his own hair. “I had two tabs open! One looking for cash-in-hand jobs, the other… shit!” He turned on his heel and glared at Hux. “How could you not know that I was clueless about all this? Didn’t I seem weirded out to you?”

“I thought you were a good actor!”

“I’m not! I’m a fucking terrible actor — that’s why my medieval reenactment group kicked me out. That and the fact that I sometimes spiral into uncontrollable rage. Aghh!” Kylo kicked the unoccupied chair and sent it clattering into a wall. “All this time I’ve been a fucking sex worker? What the fuck!”

“Oh my God,” Hux moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Have you called the police? Am I going to prison? Oh God, if they put me on the sex offender’s register I’ll have to move. There’s a fucking primary school down the road.” He put his head between his knees and started to breathe in a loud, tortured rasp.

“Hux!” Kylo yelled. “Stop freaking out. I’m the one who should be freaking out — you’re not entitled to it you weird, kinky fuck!”

Hux continued to hyperventilate, his breathing sounding increasingly wheezy and laboured. He sat up and clutched his chest.

“Shit!” Kylo leaned down and shook his shoulder. “Are you having an asthma attack?”

Hux nodded mutely in response, breath coming in a high rattle.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Kylo prompted, pacing back and forth in his agitation. Hux nodded, eyes wide and panicked. “Upstairs?” Another nod. “Shit, we’ve got to go. I am not going to be found in a sex dungeon with a dead body!” Kylo leaned down and put his arm around Hux, lifting him up and pulling Hux’s arm around his neck. He half-dragged the stumbling, wheezing man through the open doorway and up the set of stairs he found beyond, then down a hallway and into a large, open-plan kitchen and living area.

“Here?” he asked.

Hux nodded and pointed towards another open door. “Bathroom… cabinet,” he gasped out.

Kylo dropped him down onto a nearby sofa and ran through to the bathroom, ripping open the medicine cabinet and rifling through its contents until he found an inhaler, hidden towards the back and obviously seldom used — he prayed that the medication was still in date. He ran back and fell onto his knees in front of Hux, shaking up the inhaler and then pressing it into the other man’s hands.  Hux took a deep pull on it and then shook it again and took another, before slumping back and undoing his top button, making pained sounds as his tortured, whistling breaths slowly quietened.

“Fuck,” said Kylo quietly, falling backwards on the plush, carpeted floor and catching himself on his hands. “Jesus. Don’t do that again — chill the fuck out.”

Hux moaned faintly and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well,” he said eventually, voice hoarse. “It’s not every day one learns one had been committing a series of heinous sexual assaults.”

“Look, don’t get upset again. You didn’t know. I didn’t know. It was fucked up.”

Hux shook his head. “I should have known better than to just go straight into a scene like that. We should have talked it out _in propria persona_ — I know that! That’s rule bloody one! But you just… you went for it and you were so persuasive. It was captivating. When you have a fantasy like that and someone turns up who is just tailor made for it…”

“Listen, I’m flattered you thought I was straight out of central casting for your sex fantasies because — not gonna lie — the whole time I’ve been thinking that I’m the weird perv for getting off on it.”

“What?” Hux gave a weak giggle.

“Seriously. I was like ‘oh poor Dr Hux. He’s just doing his job and here I am with a boner for him.’”

Hux covered his face with his hands, the laugh turning slightly hysterical. “Bloody hell. What a pair we make.”

“So yeah,” Kylo rubbed his clammy palms off on his jeans. “All the medical stuff, turns out I’m into it. Also, stern red-heads with clipboards.”

“You’re remarkably sanguine about all this.”

Kylo shrugged. “That’s the way I am. I run hot and burn out.”  

Hux gave a long, shaky sigh, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, running his fingers back through his hair and disordering it. “I need a cup of tea. Do you want one?”

“Sure,” Kylo said, getting up and following him towards the kitchen. He took a seat at the dining table and watched Hux filling a kettle and poking around in cupboards.

“Earl Grey alright?”

“Yeah.” Kylo thought Earl Grey tasted like perfume, but he thought regular tea tasted like dishwater, so it was much of a muchness. He watched Hux turn from the countertop and stare out the large bay window that looked out over the street, wrapping his arms around himself. Kylo imagined walking up behind him and embracing him, kissing the patch of skin behind his ear. Hux was still wearing the white coat, though some of the buttons had come undone.

“What do you really do?” Kylo asked, looking around at the stylish surroundings. Everything was sleekly-designed and modern, the walls painted in complementary shades of pale blue and grey.

“Oh,” Hux startled, almost as if he had forgotten Kylo was there. “I’m an architect. Freelance, now, though I used to work for a big firm.”

“Aren’t you like way too young to be a successful architect? I thought you had to go to school for that shit for like twenty years.”

Hux smiled faintly. “Almost that long. You might say I was to the manner born — my father had great ambitions for me.”

“Did you design this house?”

Hux let out a sharp bark of laughter. “No, of course not. It’s over a hundred years old! I renovated it, though.” The kettle clicked off and Hux turned and busied himself with mugs and spoons. “Do you take milk and sugar?”

“Sure, why not?”

Hux gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t you have a preference?”

Kylo shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Hux set a mug in front of him and seated himself opposite. “Well. Here we are. This is awkward. You can send me the bill for the therapy you’ll no doubt need.”

“This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here. That would be the time a girl half my size stabbed me so hard in the stomach with a rattan sword that I fell over and split my face in half on a rock.”

“You seem to lead a life of singular drama.”

“Runs in my family.” Kylo sipped his sugary tea. “So what’s the deal with the medical roleplay? What made you decide to build a fake clinic in your basement?”

“Oh, God knows.”

“Come on — no-one goes all out like that on a whim. You must have thought about it for a long time.”

“The ah… medical setting. It’s something I’ve always had an interest in. I was a rather sickly child — lung problems, digestive problems. I spent a lot of time at the doctor’s, underwent a lot of invasive tests. Perhaps the roleplay is a way of reclaiming that experience. And it’s… I like the staging.”

“Staging?”

“The… process. Step by step. I find sexual intimacy difficult. It’s,” he made a sweeping gesture, “scattered… unpredictable.”

“Most people find spontaneity sexy.”

“Not me. I prefer some robust forward planning.”

Kylo laughed. “It’s funny... how the ‘Dr Hux’ thing is a character and yet it’s not, you know? Wait, is that even your real name?”

“Oh yes — not the doctor part, obviously.”

“What’s the ‘A’ for?”

“Armitage,” Hux made a face. “I know. Like Armitage Shanks. Extremely hilarious to my former schoolmates, I assure you.”

“Wh— oh, like on the sinks?”

“Exactly. Are you really called Kylo?”

“Sort of. I go by Kylo, it’s not my birth name.”

“What’s wrong with your birth name?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to reinvent myself.”

“As what?”

“As someone cool.”

“Ah. Did it work?”

“Of course it fucking didn’t!”

Hux smiled. “What’s your birth name?”

“Ben.”

“Your name is _Ben Ren_?”

“Ben Organa. The Ren thing is like… nevermind. You can call me whatever, I don’t care.”

After an awkward pause Hux looked down at his tea and said: “I realise this is a… dangerous and possibly highly inappropriate question, given what just happened, but would you consider continuing our arrangement? I’d pay you more, if it would help to smooth over the... misunderstanding.”

Kylo sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and breathing out heavily. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know how I feel about being paid for that stuff now that I know it’s… sex and not science.”

“I perfectly understand.”

“Are you going to advertise for someone else?”

“Oh I don’t think so. I think I’ve learned my lesson on that front.”

“So what are you gonna do instead?”

“Oh, what I did before.”

“What’s that?”

Hux looked up, his expression suggesting that the answer to this was obvious. “Nothing.”

“So either I let you pay me to put vibrators in my ass or you cut off all human contact and die alone? What the fuck, Hux?”

“Well… It’s not quite that fatalistic.”

Kylo jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re really handsome, you know? And obviously you have money and a good job. It’s fucking stupid to just sit around feeling sorry for yourself. If I was as hot and as rich as you are I’d do… so much. Seriously. Get over yourself.”

Hux sat back, folding his arms over his chest with a look of deep amusement. “You’re really rather odd, aren’t you?”

“You don’t get to say that to me, right? You built a fake doctor’s office for sex games.”

Hux smiled, shaking his head. “So I did. Strange how these things sound when someone else says them.”

“Oh yeah, and another thing — what did you do with my come?”

“Your… oh,” Hux flushed, pink working its way up his neck and to his ears. “Nothing. I disposed of it safely and hygienically.”

“Yeah but after doing _what_ with it?”

“I’m not comfortable answering that question.”

“Believe me, I’m not comfortable asking it, but here we are.”

“I uh… I liked to sniff it while I… well. You can imagine.”

Kylo _could_ imagine. He shifted in his seat. “Is that all you did, just... sniffed?”

“I may have... explored the texture. With gloves on.”

Kylo leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Did you taste it?”

“No! God, that would be quite the STI risk.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m clean, but I will go to a clinic — a real fucking clinic — and get a piece of paper saying so if that would make you wanna… taste it.”

Hux scraped back his chair and got to his feet. “Kylo — Ben — whatever you want to be called — I’m sorry, again, for the mix-up. I’m grateful you’ve been so understanding, but as you say we can’t continue the arrangement as before. I think we should part ways. Let me get your… fee for today.”

“Keep it,” Kylo said, pushing his cup of cooling perfume-water away and getting to his feet. “I didn’t even do anything today except break your fucking… collectables.”

“And save my life.”

“After giving you a panic attack. Yeah.”

“Shall we call it even, then?” Hux paused and then tentatively offered his hand.

“Even,” Kylo agreed. The touch of Hux’s dry, bare palm felt intimate, and it was hard to drop it and pull himself away.

“Good luck with your studies,” Hux called after him as Kylo turned to go back the way he came, down the basement steps.

“Yeah. Good luck with the weird hermit thing.” Kylo paused in the doorway and took a last look at Hux as he stood near the kitchen window, arms wrapped around himself. The afternoon sun made him look deathly pale, almost insubstantial; vulnerable in some way Kylo had never imagined Hux could be. Kylo thought about Phasma saying ‘you’re an all-in kind of person’ and he had a terrible feeling she might be right.

*~*~*

One week later Kylo ran up the front steps to the large, red-brick house and pressed the doorbell. He heard a melodious chime sound somewhere inside, a contrast to the harsh sound of the basement buzzer. After a minute or so the door opened and there stood Hux in a button-up shirt and designer jeans, looking both weirdly casual and far too well-dressed for a man working from home.

“Hey,” Kylo said. “It’s 3.30 on Wednesday — I know you’re not busy. Do you want to come have coffee with me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking you on a date. Coffee, with me.”

“That’s rather forward.”

“Well I mean, fuck, you’ve listened to me jack off so I figured we could bypass some formalities here.”

Hux’s expression was somewhere between wondering and skeptical. “What would we talk about?”

“I didn’t think that far, to be honest, I was just going to wing it.”

Hux scratched his head, opening the door wider. “Um, do you want to come inside?”

“No, see, if I come in I’m just having coffee in your house — that’s not a date. You have to come outside with me, to the Caffe Nero by the bus stop.” Kylo frowned. “Unless… are you agoraphobic?”

“No, I am able to leave my own house if I so choose. Can I put some shoes on, at least?”

“Yeah ok, if you’re quick.”

“Alright, give me a minute.” Hux closed the door and Kylo stood outside, scuffing his boot against the step and wondering if Hux would really come back out, or if he would just bar the doors and disconnect the bell.

Hux reemerged pulling on black leather gloves and wearing a long military-style coat which he had cast about his shoulders with surprising élan. He cocked an eyebrow at Kylo. “Shall we go?”

When they had gone half way down the street in awkward silence, Kylo announced: “I got a shitty new job. In the university bookshop.”

“Congratulations.”

“People are so, so dumb you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, I think I would.”

“You’re mean and sarcastic,” Kylo said, looking across at Hux as he shared this revelation.

Hux seemed taken aback. “Well sorry.”

“No, I like it. I don’t trust nice people — you never know what they’re thinking.” Kylo looked down and took Hux’s hand, waiting to see if he would pull away (he didn’t). “Still,” he continued, “the good thing about this new job is that nobody’s tried to put anything in my ass yet.”

“Is that a plus? I was under the impression you liked things in your ass.”

“Not for work, only recreationally.”

“Ah.”

“Fucking monthly paychecks are bullshit, though,” Kylo continued. “So you’re buying the coffee, just so you know.”

“Have you ever had a coffee enema?” Hux asked, apparently warming to the conversation.

“No I have not.”

“Would you like to? I hear it’s very energizing. Some people argue it has health benefits.”

“Oh well, if it’s for my _health_.”

Hux turned his head and smiled at Kylo: the wide, slightly unnerving ‘Dr Hux’ grin. Kylo squeezed his hand in return. “How about we get that coffee to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The toy Hux uses on Kylo is [this classy number](https://www.lelo.com/hugo), just in case anyone was wondering. Also this somehow turned into a love-letter to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, which I've been dreaming about a lot lately... gannan doon the toon in my subconscious. ;__;


End file.
